


Tradition

by Endraking



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve traditions, Comfort/Angst, Delivering holiday angst, Delivering presents, Drunk Stiles, M/M, Moving On, Nolan POV, Nolan is Santas Helper, Nolan is bad at movie synopsis, Nolan/Gabe before Gabe's death, Older Pack humor, Puppy Pack humor, ghost!Gabe, holiday spirit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endraking/pseuds/Endraking
Summary: A year after Gabe died in the hospital, Nolan still isn't over him.  He plans to follow their Christmas eve tradition as he drops off presents for the other members of the pack and family.  He's gets a window into their happiness as he goes to mourn and be with his dead boyfriend.





	Tradition

Tradition

 

 

The chilled wind whipped through the bare tree branches, sending the sounds of wood cracking through the forest.  The dead limbs and trees were breaking free, clearing out for the new growth.  The cycle within Beacon Hills continued without a care for those that died as the remains were torn away, making room for new growth.  He wrapped the seasonal wool knit scarf, a gift from last Christmas, tighter around his neck.  He had a lot to do before the sun began to sink.

Nolan finished loading the last wrapped box into his white hybrid Veloster.  He looked back to his home, the imposing, three story brick home with the immense white columned wrap around porch.  It was dark, not a single light within, not even a hint of the time of year.

His parents always left Beacon Hills during the holidays, traveling to distant family or giving themselves a vacation where summer and warmth never ended.  He’d skipped out for the last half decade and this year wasn’t any different. 

He climbed into the front seat and drove to his first destination.  The roads were nearly devoid of life as he pulled into the parking lot of Beacon Hills Memorial.  He reached back from the driver’s seat and grabbed a tiny festive box and an envelope.  He quickly left the vehicle, a shudder to his step as he tried to avoid the wind cutting through his clothes.  His face felt cut as he walked through the sliding doors.

The hospital seemed slow which brought the smallest smile to his face.  At least Beacon Hills took a night off from the insanity to let Santa do his work.  Melissa looked up from the desk and initially narrowed her eyes as he stepped to the desk.  He could tell she was checking to see if was hurt.  When he gave her a nervous “Hi” with a wave, the nurse triage habit ended, and she smiled back, “Nolan.  What are you doing here?”

He bit his lower lip anxiously as he set the box and envelope on the desk.  “I-I-I’m helping Santa make his rounds this year.”

She looked to the envelope and box, “You didn’t have to get anything for me.”

He shook his head, “I know.  I just wanted to say Happy Holidays.  I hope you have a happy new year.”

She pulled the gifts and read the names, “For Chris and Myself?”

He nodded quickly, “Y-Yeah.  Scott’s home, right?”

“He’s spending the night at the Stilinski’s home.”  She chuckled as she followed, “Tradition.”

He let out a slight pained sigh, “Yeah.  Tradition.  W-Well I should go.  I’ve got a car full of gifts Santa left behind.”

She stepped from behind the desk and pulled him into a hug.  He couldn’t even lift his arms as she held him and whispered, “Happy Holidays, Nolan.  I hope your time is spent surrounded by love.”

When he pulled free, he looked to her eyes and said, “Yeah.  I will.  Tradition.”

He left the hospital almost as quickly as he arrived.  His car was on and the heat blasting as he drove to the Sheriff’s house.  When he pulled up to the driveway, he noticed the line of cars outside.  He made out Lydia’s, Malia’s, Stiles’ jeep, Derek’s black Camaro, and the Sheriff’s cruiser. 

He made a mental note to grab all of those presents as he got out of the car.  The boxes filled his arms and threatened to fall free as he maneuvered through the wind and made it to the front door.  He stood there for a moment, staring at the door, his hands full, before he looked to the doorbell.  He shifted his body and leaned down with his face, trying to ring the bell, when the door opened.

The bearded, dark haired wolf stared at him with those green eyes.  He began to mumble something when the taller, built man, clad in a Santa suit onesie took the gifts from his arms easily and carried them inside.  He slowly crept towards the door when Scott popped up, wearing a light blue onesie with snowflakes on it and pulled him inside.  The entire home smelled of cinnamon, fresh pine, and hints of gingerbread.    “We weren’t expecting you, Nolan.”

He weakly shrugged, “Santa left some presents for me to deliver.  I think I remembered everyone’s.”

When Scott pulled him into the living room, his eyes danced over the older pack and the Sheriff, everyone wearing a comfy holiday onesie.  Even the Sheriff wore a deep red older style onesie.  They held mugs with waves of heat traveling from them except for Stiles who held a rounded glass with a thick, syrupy milk that he guessed was eggnog.

Stiles almost tripped over the wooden coffee table, bumping into Derek and almost knocking him into the tree as he approached him and shoved the glass into his open hand, “Dude, you have to try the eggnog.  Scotty made it this year and it is goooood.”

He swirled the mystery fluid in the glass before he took a big gulp.  He had to fight back spitting it out as it burned down his throat and Stiles took the glass back.  He looked to the FBI Agent in training, “That was mostly Brandy.”

“Yeah, I know.  It’s great isn’t it?  I only get it once a year, but I look forward to it.”

“B-but I’m underage.”

Stiles clumsily looked to his dad and replied like he was sharing a secret, “Ixnay on the Cohollay in front of the S-H-E-R-I-F-F.”

Noah smirked at his son and stated firmly, “Stiles.  I know pig Latin and how to spell.  I’m your dad, not a four-year-old.”

Stiles leaned close to his ear and whispered, “He’s on to us.” 

Stiles downed the glass and stumbled back into the kitchen.

He looked to Scott and Derek and asked, “Why is he drunk?”

Lydia tilted her head and replied matter-of-factly, “We get him drunk every Christmas eve.”

"Why do you get Stiles drunk every year?" 

Scott widely grinned while Lydia answered, "Because he opens his gifts quietly and thanks everyone simply as he fights through the hangover." 

Malia commented, "Except that one year." 

Scott looked to her defensively, "How was I supposed to know he had a flask to keep drinking and drank through Christmas."

Derek tilted his brow, “Because you were supposed to take his flask.”

Noah shook his head slowly, “Let’s not discuss how getting my son drunk on Christmas eve was ever conceived as a good plan.”

Stiles cheered from the kitchen, “It’s okay, Dad.  It was my ideal after the last Christmas disaster.  It’s tradition!”

Noah glanced back to the kitchen, ‘I said we aren’t discussing it.  We’re watching the movie.”

“What movie?”

"Yeah we're watching "It's a Wonderful Life"." 

Nolan took a moment to think about the older movie before he asked, "Is that the suicide movie with angels?" 

Stiles spit out his eggnog with a laugh as nervous looks were exchanged between the older pack.  He bit his lower lip as his anxiety sky rocketed, "I-I'm thinking of the right movie, right?" 

Stiles wiped his mouth as he walked towards the tree and slapped Derek on the shoulder with a grin, "See, Sourwolf, Nolan is someone that could compete with you on movie descriptions." 

Derek shot a look at Stiles, "I told you I read books.  I don't watch many movies." 

Scott grinned as he looked to the two, "Except Harry Potter.  How many times have you watched that?"

Derek lowered his brow as he addressed Scott, "Stiles wanted to watch them." 

Stiles squeezed Derek's shoulder, "No, Der.  I caught you watching them in the loft.  By yourself.  Don't try to blame your hidden love for Harry Potter on me.  And you can't even use that excuse.  You still haven't watched the Star Wars movies with me." 

Nolan interrupted, "I should go.  Santa left a few more gifts for me to deliver." 

He looked to Scott, "Liam and the guys are at the Geyer household, right?" 

Scott smiled and nodded before he pulled the young former hunter in for a hug, "Yeah.  Take care Nolan and have a Happy Holiday." 

"You too."

He was out of the warmth of the Stilinski home and on the road without hesitation.  The sun had just finished setting and he still had presents to deliver.  He let his mind wander about how Santa could ever feasibly do it.  It was a childish thought but one that brought a smile to his lips.

He heard the loud Christmas music from his car as he parked on the curb in front of the Geyer home.  The white two-story house was lit up with lights strung around the edges of the roof, a display of Santa and Reindeers in the front yard with a giant snowman next to them. 

He looked past the decorations, into the bay windows that showed the living room.  He saw Liam and Theo smiling and laughing as they hit each other with pieces of popcorn, each holding a string with some popcorn hanging from it.  Corey and Mason were just past them, hanging ornaments on the tree. 

He looked back to the boxes and grabbed most of them before heading to the front door.  He shuffled them in his arms and rang the doorbell.  When the door opened, he was greeted with a warm smile from Jenna, her long sandy hair tied up in a bun, her red and green dress covered by a white apron with flour on it.  “Nolan, sweetie, what are you doing here?”

“Um, Santa has some gifts he wanted me to drop off.”

She smiled and ushered him inside.  She looked to the living room, “The boys are in there.  You’re welcome to stay for dinner.  I’ve made plenty.”

He shook his head, “I’d love to, Mrs. Geyer but I have another stop after this.”

She rubbed the top of his head, pushing his thick locks around and making sure to move them from his eyes, “You’re a good helper.  I know Santa appreciates.”

He ducked his head slightly, his cheeks turning red, as he bashfully accepted the compliment.  She walked back to the kitchen as he stepped into the living room.  The puppy pack looked to him and Mason eyed up the packages that seemed to spill from his arms, “What’s all that?”

“I-I’m dropping off presents.  From Santa.”

Liam rushed over and began to take them from him, but Theo joined on the other side and tried to take them.  Liam shot Theo a look, “Hands off Gizmo.  These go under the tree.”

Theo snarked, “I know, Little Wolf.  Why do you think I was taking them?  We want them to get there safely.”

Liam argued back, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Theo broadly grinned, “It means we don’t want you to fall in a hole walking them to the tree.”

Mason and Corey snickered as Liam growled, “It’s literally ten feet away.  I’m not going to fall in a hole.”

Theo’s grin widened, “Could’ve fooled me.”

The two carried them to the tree as he looked to the TV.  “What movie is this?”

Corey answered, “Gremlins.  A classic Christmas movie.”

He narrowed his brows and contemplated for a moment before he asked, “Little cute monster that has to fight his twisted turned offspring?”

Theo and Mason giggled while Liam shot a look to Theo, “That’s why he’s Gizmo.  Our own personal little cute monster.”

Theo shot a glare back, “I’m not little.  I’m taller than you.”

Liam’s voice rose, “Not anymore.  We’re the same height, ass.”

Jenna yelled from the kitchen, “That popcorn better be strung before I finish dinner.”

Theo and Liam called back, “Yes Ma’am.”

Liam looked to him with a genuine smile, “So, you’re staying to join us for dinner and the movie, right?  Mom’s making a roast.  It’s tradition.”

He shook his head quickly, “No.  I have a couple more gifts to drop off.   A-And I’m losing time.”

Corey asked, “What’s your rush?”

He looked to the younger chimera, “I’ve got to get ready for my Christmas eve tradition.”

Theo inquired, “So you’re leaving?  You just got here.”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

He barely caught the exchanged looks between the puppy pack before they surrounded him and pulled him into a big group hug.  “We’re glad you visited.”  “Thanks for helping Santa.”  “You didn’t have to bring anything.”  “I hope you brought Liam some boxing gloves.” 

He pulled free just as they released him, and Liam and Theo began to playfully argue again.  “Take care and Happy Holidays.”

“You too, Nolan.”

The lights seemed to dim further as he drove down the streets of the housing development.  The sky darkened further with thick clouds rolling in.  He looked up past his windshield and thought how Beacon Hills might just get a white Christmas after all. 

He pulled down the long-forgotten street and parked in front of the near empty house.  The only signs of life being the dim outside light and the few flickers of light that escaped the windows in the living room.  He grabbed the few boxes and walked to the door.  He held them in one arm as he knocked on the door.

The wind blew, and he saw a couple of flakes fly by his face before the door opened.  Zac looked to him with a pained smile, “Nolan.  What are you doing here?”

He slowly stepped inside as Zac made room, “The same thing I do every year.  Spend Christmas eve with Gabe.”

Zac began to open his mouth, to say something, but the words died as he ushered Nolan into the living room after closing the door. 

The sound of the explosion from the TV pulled his attention.  He tilted his head as he watched Zac climb back under the thick blanket with Danny on the couch.  “You’re watching “Die Hard”?  For Christmas?”

Danny elbowed Zac, “I told you.  “Die Hard” isn’t a Christmas movie!”

Zac shot him a look, “I thought you were saying it was a Christmas movie last year?”

He shook his head, “No.  It was always you and Gabe that argued that it was.  I was the one that said it wasn’t.  It’s about Bruce Willis stopping a terrorist plot by Alan Rickman.  That’s not Christmas.”

Zac argued back, “Because you don’t realize the subplot.”

He shakes his head and looks around the living room.  Everything was just the same from the last time he visited, after Gabe’s funeral.  “Where’s the tree?”

Zac curled into Danny while Danny replied, “She didn’t want one this year.”

“Oh.  Where should I put these?”  He lifted the boxes in his arms. 

Zac looked to the empty side table, “You can put them there.  We’ll unwrap them before she wakes up in the morning.  Part of Mom’s war on Holidays.”

He set the boxes down and looked down the hallway, to the dark door at the end, “Um, Can I…”

Zac replied, “Yeah.  His room is just how you last saw it.”

He nodded slowly and walked down the hall.  It felt different, empty, as he made it to the door and opened the room.  A faint hint of dust caught his nose as he stepped into Gabe’s room.  He saw the lacrosse gear stacked into a corner, his jersey laid out on the still unmade bed.  Gabe’s room became the one that time forgot.

He took a few breaths and steeled his nerves before he walked to the closet.  When he slid open the double doors, he saw the two sleeping bags in the bottom and grabbed his.  He set it on the bed before he pushed the hangers and found the hoodie.  A plain black one with a few streaks of blue paint.  He pulled it free and scooped up the sleeping bag before he left the room.  While Gabe was gone, their tradition wasn’t.

When he made it back to the front door and Zac called out, “Still doing your tradition?”

His voice cracked as he answered, “Y-yeah.”

Danny commented, “You know, you can stay here.  You aren’t going to scare Santa away.”

“I know.  But it’s something Gabe and I did for years.  It-It wouldn’t feel right.”

Zac’s warmth followed, “Stay warm out there.  It’s supposed to snow.”

“I will.”

He opened the door and took the hoodie and sleeping bag to his car.  It wasn’t long before he was parked in front of the graveyard.  He carried the last large box with the sleeping bag and hoodie into the cemetery.  He placed the large box next to Gabe’s grave and pulled out the four Buddhist stone sculptures. 

One by one he placed them on Brett, Lori, Jiang, and Tierney’s graves.  With a tear at the corner of his eye, he softly spoke to them, “I’m sorry.  I-I hope, that maybe, you’re together.”

He walked back to Gabe’s grave as the snow began to fall.  The forest was quiet.  The only sounds he caught were the gentle shifts of leaves and branches from the wind and snow.  He pulled the old flowers from the stone vase and replaced them with a bouquet of fake poinsettias. 

Next, he reached into the box and pulled a tiny felt black box.  He opened it and set it on the edge of Gabe’s tombstone.  There were two thick silver bands with a streak of gold wrapping around them.  He pulled one from the box and slid it on his finger.

His throat tightened as he looked to Gabe’s tombstone.  He didn’t know how long he stared but the cold pulled him back. 

He unrolled the sleeping bag next to the grave and pulled the hoodie over his head before removing his shoes and climbing in.  He curled into the hoodie and took a deep breath.  It was faint, but it still smelled like Gabe.  He rolled over and stared at the sky, the snow gently falling, as he spoke, “It’s just like old times.”

He settles into the bag, still shivering in his clothes as he closes his eyes.  A voice pulls him back, one he hadn’t heard since before Monroe was run off.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to sleep in your clothes?”

He cracked his lids and looked up to see Gabe, beaming a smile in his blue suit.  “Gabe?”

“Nolan, get out of the bag and strip.  Put your clothes in the bag with you and then you can sleep.”

“B-But it’ll be colder.  Without you.”

Gabe grinned as he slid the jacket from his shoulders and let it fall to the snow-covered ground.  That was all it took for him to shuffled free, sending snow from the bag as he began to pull away his clothes.  When he shoved his clothes into the bag, he reached in and pulled the hoodie back.  He slid it over his body before he looked up to Gabe. 

His mouth dried as his teeth chattered, staring up the muscles and contours of his dead boyfriend’s body.  The distant lights reflected off the silver and gold back, held on a chain that hung around Gabe’s neck.  “Aren’t you going to join me?”

Gabe cracked a smile before he pulled back part of the sleeping bag and joined Nolan.  The material pulled tight and Gabe’s body felt cold but with his protective arms wrapped around his body, it felt right.  It felt like it used to.

Gabe squeezed tighter and placed a frigid kiss against his forehead.  “What are you doing here, Nol?”

He chuckled as he pulled himself against Gabe’s chest, “I had to deliver a few gifts for Santa.  I didn’t want to miss our tradition.”

Gabe softly laughed, “You mean camping outside because neither of us could sleep as kids while we waited for Santa.  We didn’t want him to skip my home since we were awake, so we camped outside instead.”

“Y-yeah.”

“You know Santa isn’t going to visit me, right?”

He lowered his head into Gabe’s chest, as the words meekly flowed, “I know.  I just thought, I would help Santa out.  And it’s cold.  And you shouldn’t be alone.”

Gabe’s fingertips pulled to his chin and tilted his head back up, so their gazes met, “I’m glad you remembered me.”

“I-I couldn’t forget.”

“It’s sweet.  But one of these days, you will.  And it’ll be alright.  I want you to.”

He shook his head as he curled his fingers around the chain and the promise ring, “I don’t want to.”

“That’s why you got me the ring, isn’t it?”

He nibbled on his lower lip, “Y-yeah.  Marriage is until death, but we haven’t parted.  So I promise to wait for you.  My whole life.”

“I don’t want you to do that.  I want you to find someone to make you happy.”

He wistfully sighed, “I know.  I-I’m not ready, yet.”

“It’s okay.  Let’s hold each other and sleep.  Tomorrow will be Christmas and your friends will be waiting to see you.”

 

He shivered in the bag when the sun pulled at his lids, forcing him from slumber.  His joints popped as he stretched in the bag.  In a jolt of fear, he looked for Gabe.  He was alone.  Again.  The ghost of his boyfriend was gone.  He pulled his clothes back on, still warm from being in the sleeping bag, but groaned to himself as he slid on his damp shoes, covered in snow.

His eyes fell back to Gabe’s tombstone as he rolled up the bag and gathered up his things.  The felt box was empty.  Drawn in the snow on the ledge next to the box was a tiny heart.  He placed his hand on the cold stone and whispered, “I love you too, Gabe.”


End file.
